“I see….” Inca murmured, feeling the seriousness of his words.
Clearing his throat again, Roan said, “I don’t have horses to give your parents, Inca. But if I could, I would. I have to shift to a white man’s way of asking for your hand in marriage.” He opened his fingers and gave her the neatly tied red cloth. “Open it,” he told her thickly. “It’s for you—a symbol of what I hope for between us….”
Roan held his breath as Inca gently set the cloth down between them and quickly untied it. As the folds fell away, they revealed a slender gold ring set with seven cabochon gemstones.
Gasping, Inca picked up the ring and marveled at it. “Oh, Roan, the stones are the color of my eyes!” She touched the ring with her fingertips, watching it sparkle in the sunlight. “It is beautiful!” She sent him a brilliant smile. “And this is a gift to me?”
“Yes.” He tried to steady his voice. He saw the surprise and pleasure in Inca’s expression, the way her lips curved in joy as she held up the ring. “It symbolizes our engagement to one another. An agreement that you will marry me…become my wife and I’ll be your husband….” His throat became choked. He saw Inca’s eyes flare as she cradled the ring in her palm.
“You are my beloved,” she whispered softly, reaching out and gently touching his cheek. “You have always held my heart….”
“Is that a yes?”
Inca looked down at the ring, her eyes welling with tears. “For so long, I thought no one loved me. That I was too dark, too bad of a person, to love,” she said brokenly. “You came along—so strong and proud, so confident and caring of me that I began to think I was not as bad as I thought I was, or as others have said of me….” Sniffing, Inca wiped the tears from her eyes and looked up at Roan. She saw the anguish, the unsureness, in his eyes, but she also felt his love blanketing her just as the sun embraced Mother Earth. “I understand what love is now…and I have had these months to take it into my heart.” She pressed her hand against her chest.
“You were never a bad person, Inca. Not ever. Enemies will always say you’re bad—but that’s to be expected. You shouldn’t listen to them. And I know you thought you were bad because you were banished from the village.”
Inca hung her head and closed her eyes. “Yes,” she admitted hoarsely. Reaching out, she gripped his hand, which was resting on her knee. “But you showed me I was a good person. That I was worthy of care, of protection, of being loved.” Opening her hand, Inca stared down at the ring through blurry eyes. Tears splashed onto her palm and across the delicately wrought ring.
“If I accept this gift from you, it means you will be my husband? That you love me enough to want me as your partner?”
Tenderly, Roan framed Inca’s face with his hands, marveling in her beauty. Tears beaded on her thick, black lashes. He saw the joy and suffering in her eyes. “Yes, my woman. Yes, I want you as my partner and wife. You’re my best friend, too. And if the Great Spirit blesses us, I want the children you’ll grow with love in your belly.”
Sniffing, Inca placed her hands over his. “I love you so much, Roan…. You have always held my heart safely in your hands. I want to be your wife. I want Grandmother Alaria to marry us.”
Gently, he leaned down and placed a soft, searching kiss on her lips. He tasted the salt of her tears. He felt her hands fall away from his and glide across his shoulders. Her mouth was hot with promise, sliding slickly across his. She moved to her knees and pressed her body against his in an artless gesture that spoke of her need for him.
Slowly, Roan eased his mouth from hers. He took the ring from her hand. “Here,” he whispered roughly, “let me put it on your finger to make it official.” His heart soared with such joy that Roan wondered if he was going to die of a heart attack at that moment. Inca was smiling through her tears and extending her long, slender fingers toward him. How easy it was to slip that small gold ring onto her hand. She wanted to marry him! She was willing to be his partner for life….
Sighing, Inca admired the ring. “What are the stones in the ring?” She marveled at their yellow-green, translucent beauty.
“They’re called peridot,” Roan said. “And they came from a mine on an Apache reservation in North America.”
Murmuring with pleasure, Inca ran her finger across them. “Indian. That is good. It comes from their land, their heart.”
“You like it?”
She nodded. “I like it, yes.” Lifting her head, she looked at him through her lashes. “But I love the man who gave it to me even more….”
Chapter 15
The time was ripe. Inca sighed as Roan pulled her into his arms after he’d moved off the large, flat rock.
“There’s a special place I found,” he rasped as he lifted her easily. “I want to share it with you. It was made for us….”
“Yes…show me?” Inca pressed a kiss to his bristly jaw. The ferns gently swatted against her bare feet and legs as he carried her away from the waterfall and deep into the rain forest. Eventually the path opened up into a small, sunlit meadow ringed with trees. Bromeliads and orchids of many colors clustered in their gnarled limbs.
There was a shaded area beneath one rubber tree, and Inca smiled as Roan set her down upon the dark green grass. Looking up into his stormy eyes, she whispered, “Teach me how to love you. I want to love you, Roan, in all the ways a woman can love her man.”
Nodding, he squeezed her hands and released them. She sat there, chin lifted, her innocence touching his heart as never before. “We’ll teach one another,” he told her as he began to unbutton his pants. “But you’ll take the lead, Inca. You tell me what you want me to do. Where you want me to place my hands on you. I want you to enjoy this, not be in pain or discomfort.”
Nodding, she watched as he eased out of his pants and dropped them to one side. He stood naked before her, and she thrilled at seeing him this way. There was no fat on him anywhere. His body was tightly muscled. The dark hair on his chest funneled down across his hard, flat stomach, and she gulped. Unable to tear her gaze from him, she felt her mouth go a dry. Oh, she’d seen animals mate, but this was different. This was a sacred moment, holding a promise of such beauty and wonder. Her mind dissolved and her feelings rushed like powerful ocean waves throughout her.
Just looking at Roan in the power of his nakedness as he knelt in front of her, his knee brushing hers, made her smile uncertainly. “I am shaking, Roan,” she whispered. “But not from fear…”
Roan smiled in turn as he eased the buttons of her blouse open. “Yes, that’s the way it should feel,” he told her in a low, roughened tone. “Anticipation, wanting…needing one another.”
Inca felt the material brush her sensitized breasts, her nipples hardening as the cloth was pulled away to expose them. She felt no shame in her nakedness with Roan. As he eased the blouse off her shoulders, she gloried in the primal look in his narrowed eyes as he absorbed the sight of her. His hands were trembling, too. Elated that he wanted her as badly as she wanted him, Inca stood. In moments, she’d followed his lead and divested herself of her damp cotton slacks. Standing naked in front of him, she felt a sense of her power as a woman. The darkening, hooded look in his eyes stirred her, making her bold and very sure of herself. She took his hand and knelt down opposite him. Acting on instinct, she lifted her hands and drew Roan’s head down between her breasts.
Closing her eyes as their skin met and melded, Inca sighed and swayed unsurely as his hands, large and scarred, moved around her hips to draw her between his opened thighs and press her fully against him. The feel of his warm, hard flesh was exciting. The wiry hair on his chest made her breasts tingle, the nipples tighten, and she felt dampness collecting between her legs. Inca uttered another sigh of pleasure at the sensual delights assaulting her. The sounds of the rain forest were like music to her ears, the waterfall in the distance only heightening her reeling emotions, which clamored for more of Roan’s touch.
As he lifted his head away, his hands ranged upwa
rd from her hips to graze the rounded curve of her breasts. A gasp of pleasure tore from her and she shut her eyes. Moaning, she guided his hands so that her breasts were resting in his large palms. Her skin tingled, grew even more tight and heated.
“Feel good?” he rasped.
Inca could not speak, she was so caught up in delicious sensations as his thumbs lazily circled her hard, expectant nipples. Oh! She wanted something…and she moaned and dug her fingers into his thick, muscular shoulders.
Understanding what she needed, Roan leaned over and licked one hardened, awaiting peak.
Uttering a cry of surprise, of pleasure, Inca dug her fingers more deeply into his flesh. She tipped her head back, her slender throat gleaming.
Seeing the deep rose flush across her cheeks, her lips parted in a soundless cry of pleasure, Roan captured the other erect nipple between his lips and suckled her. Inca moaned wildly, her hands opening and closing spasmodically against his shoulders. Trembling and breathing in ragged gasps, she moved sinuously in his embrace as he lavished the second nipple equally. A sheen of perspiration made her body gleam like gold in the dappled shade and sunlight beneath the tree where they knelt.
Inca collapsed against him, her head pressed against his, her soft, ragged breath caressing him. Roan was glad for the experience he had, so he could lead Inca to the precipice of desire. When the right moment came, she would gladly step off the ledge with him, he had no doubt. Gathering her into his arms, he moved to a grassy hum-mock, a few feet away from the tree and sat down, leaning his back against the firm, sloping earth. He smiled darkly up at Inca as he guided her so that she straddled him with her long, curved thighs. His hands settled on her hips and he gently positioned her above his hard, throbbing flesh.
Inca’s eyes widened as she opened her legs to move across him. Never had she been close to a man like this! But she trusted Roan. Besides, her mind was so much mush that she could no longer think coherently. He lifted her into place, and her hands came to rest on his thick, massive shoulders. And as he slowly lowered her against his hard, warm length, she gasped, but it was a cry of utter surprise and growing pleasure. Her own feminine dampness connected and slid provocatively against him. She heard and felt him groan, as if a drum thrummed deeply in his body. A tremble went through him as if a bolt of lightning had connected them invisibly to one another.
The utter pleasure of sliding against him, the delightful heat purling between her legs made her shudder and grip him more surely with her thighs. What wonderful sensations! Inca wanted more and she wasn’t disappointed. As if sensing her needs, Roan tightened his grip around her hips and dragged her forward across his rigid, pressing form. A little cry escaped her. More sensations shot jaggedly up through her boiling, womanly core as he slid partially into her throbbing confines. Her belly felt like a bed of burning, glowing coals. Her hands moved spasmodically against his chest. Her breath was coming in gasps.
Lost in the building heat as he moved her slowly back and forth against him, Inca felt him tremble each time. There was something timeless, something rhythmic and wild about this, and she wanted more, much more. Leaning forward, she brushed her breasts against his chest. Capturing his mouth, she kissed him with fierce abandon. He gently teethed her lower lip in the exchange, and she felt him lift and reposition her slightly. The sensation of something hot, hard and large pressed more deeply into her feminine core. The pressure remained, and heat swirled deeply within her and between her tensed thighs.
Gasping, Inca pressed downward and drew him more deeply into herself. Instantly, she heard Roan growl. Oh, yes, she recognized that growl. She’d heard it many times when two jaguars were in the throes of mating. He felt large and throbbing as she eased herself fully down upon him. The pleasure doubled. Then tripled as she slowly sat up, her hands tentatively resting against his hard abdomen. He was guiding her, monitoring her exploratory movements. Eyes closed, Inca marveled at all the exploding feelings, the wildness pumping through her bloodstream, and her heart pounded with a fierce, singular love for the man with whom she was coupling—for the first time in her life.
Moving her hips, she moaned and eased forward, then back. The oldest rhythm in the world took over within her. She was moving with the waves that pummeled the shore of her being, a movement so pure and necessary to life that she gripped his arms and pushed more deeply against him. Again he groaned. His body was tense, like a bow drawn too tightly. She could hear him breathing raggedly. His hands were tight around her hips, guiding her, helping her to establish that harmony, that wild rhythm between them.
Somewhere deep within Inca, something primal exploded. The savagery, the vibrant, throbbing pleasure, rolled scaldingly through her. She gripped Roan hard with her thighs and pushed rhythmically against him. The moment he lifted his hips to meet and match her hot, liquid stride, another powerful explosion rocked her, catching her off guard and tearing her breath from her lungs. For a long, amazing moment Inca sat frozen upon him, her hands lifting, her fingers flexing in a pleasure she had never before experienced. She could not move, the shower of hot ecstasy was so intense within her. When Roan eased her forward, the sensation was intensified tenfold. Inca threw her head back as a growl, as deep as her unfettered spirit, rolled up and out of her parted lips.
Roan could no longer control himself. As Inca moved wildly against him, lost in the throes of pleasure pulsing through her slender, damp form, he found his own pleasure explode in turn. Thrusting his hips upward, Roan took her deeply and continuously. White-hot heat mushroomed within him, and he groaned raggedly. He gripped her hips. Tensing, he felt himself spilling into her sacred confines.
Unable to move after the intensity of his release, he lay there panting for endless moments, his eyes open barely. Instinctively, Inca moved her hips in order to prolong the incredible sensations for him. A fierce love for her overtook him, and Roan lifted his hands and placed them on her shoulders.
Drawing her down upon him, their bodies slick against one another, Roan eased Inca off him and to his side. The grass welcomed them, cool against their hot flesh as he slid one arm beneath her neck and rolled her to her back. Pushing up on one elbow, he raised himself above her, their body’s touching from hip to feet. Beads of sweat trickled down the sides of his face. His heart was beating erratically in his chest as he smoothed several dark, damp strands from her brow and temple. Inca’s mouth was soft and parted, her lips well kissed and her eyes closed. Breathing raggedly, Roan studied her intently. It had been wonderful for both of them and he was thankful.
Her hands were still restless, wanting to touch him, feel him and absorb him. Her flesh was like a hot iron against him as her fingers tunneled through the damp hair on his chest. Inca dragged open her eyes. Her body vibrated with such joy and pleasure that she could only stare up through her lashes at Roan in wonder. His mouth was crooked with pride. She could feel his pleasure, his love for her and she sighed, then gulped to try and steady her breathing.
“I—I never knew…never imagined it felt like this! Why did we wait so long if it felt like this?”
Leaning over, Roan slid his mouth against her lips. She was soft and available. Although he knew the warrior side of her was still within her, he was privileged to meet, love and hold the woman within her, too. Lifting his mouth from her wet lips, he rasped, “There’s a time for all things, sweet woman of mine. And it will get better every time we do it.”
Gasping, Inca whispered, “I do not know how I can stand it, then.” She slid her fingers across his damp face and into his thick black hair. “I feel like I am floating! As if the storm gods have come into my body.” She gestured to her belly. “I still feel small lightning bolts of pleasure within me, even now. This is wonderful to share with you.”
“Good,” Roan whispered raggedly. Lying down, he drew Inca against him once more. She rested her head wearily in the crook of his shoulder, her arm languidly draped across his chest. The warmth of the day, the slight breeze, all conspired to s
lowly cool them off. Closing his eyes, Roan murmured, “I love you, Inca. I will until the day I die, and after that….”
Touched, Inca tightened her arm around his chest. Lying next to Roan was the most natural place in the world for her to be. “Our love created this,” she whispered unsteadily. “How I feel now, in my heart, is because of you—your patience and understanding of me.” She lifted her head and gazed deeply into his half-opened eyes. There was such peace in Roan’s features now. Gone was that tension she’d always seen around his mouth. “I understand what love is, at last. You have shown me the way.”
As her fingertips trailed across his lower lip, he smiled lazily up at her. Her hair was slightly disheveled, a beautiful ebony frame around her flushed face and widening, beautiful eyes. There was such awe and love shining in her gaze. It made him feel good and strong in ways he’d never felt before.
“Love is a two-way street, sweetheart. It takes two to make it work. We love one another and so the rest of easy.” He trailed his fingers across the high slope of her cheek. “And best of all, you’re going to be my partner, my wife. It doesn’t get any better than that….”
Inca nodded and playfully leaned over and gave him a swift kiss, feeling bold and more confident about herself as a woman. “I never thought I would have anyone, Roan. I thought I was born into this life alone, and that I would die alone.”
“No,” he said thickly, catching her hand and placing a kiss into her palm, “you changed that, remember? You made a mistake, but you proved to everyone after making it that you were cut from a piece of good cloth. You worked long, hard years alone, to show the elders you were worthy of reconsideration.” Using his tongue, he traced a slow, wet circle across her open palm. She moaned and shut her eyes for an instant. How easy it was going to be to give Inca all the pleasure he knew how to share with her. She was wide-open and vulnerable to him. She’d given the gift of herself to him, her innocence, and he cherished her for that. He hoped he would never hurt her in the coming weeks or months—that he would always honor the sacredness of the wild, primal woman she was.
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